


after the fight

by DepressivePotato



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bad Spelling & Grammar, Blood and Gore, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Trigger Words, Dont like her much, F/M, Hallucinations, I Don't Even Know, JUST, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Death, Mild Language, Mind Control, Mind Rape, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, SO, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Triggers, because who writes fics when they're in their right mind right????, definitely not Wanda Maximoff friendly, i dont hate her, i have no idea what i am doing, ill update the tags, no beta because we're all going to die, not team Cap friendly, not wanda maximoff friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressivePotato/pseuds/DepressivePotato
Summary: -currently being rewritten!-Tony had done thousands and maybe even millions of mistakes in his life, probably more than an average person. Well, for instance, he didn't think that 'an average person' would fall for their parent's murderer, and ex assassin with too much blood in their hands and even more in their head.But wrong doesn't always mean bad, does it?Oh, Rhodeybear was going to kill him.





	1. comic-con in town -t-

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna be quick, this is not Steve Rogers friendly, and definitely not Wanda Maximoff friendly. If you stan those people that's totally fine, but this pic is probs not for you and is not a good place to start your 5k argument about Why Tony Stark Was Actually Wrong About Everything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh shit, here we go again.

Tony was a man. Just a man.

A man who fought alongside gods and super soldiers, against other gods and super soldiers and computers -Ultron was a pretty weird weekend- almost dying countless times during that very fun time, and worst of all, pulling people with him -he still couldn’t look at Rhodey without his breath getting stuck in his throat, _it was his goddamn fault-_.

 

He thought that was bad as it would get.

 

Then fate flipped him off, all of the fuckery happened, and Tony found himself fighting against the man who was supposed to be his team-mate, his friend, _his brother._ God, he was stupid enough to believe that Steve Rogers, the epitome of greatness, would actually see him as anything more than a child, living under Howard’s shadow, or worse, a threat, waiting to be eliminated.

 

Siberia was cold, but the blankness in Rogers’ eyes as he tore Tony’s arc reactor apart was _colder._

 

It froze Tony to the bones, and as fucked up as it was, his only thoughts, laying on the cold ground of the cave for hours, was _I failed him._

 

Maybe he had lashed out, over-reacted, and Howard was right, maybe he was just too much of a _sissy._ The team wasn’t his, it was the Captain’s, and maybe he should’ve tried better, worked more, slept less. Maybe it was his fault, maybe he could’ve handled things better, maybe, maybe, _maybe…_

 

When he got back to Malibu, _because New York had too many bad memories for him to handle,_ Rhodey had punched a wall and told him none of this was his fucking fault, that he was not a babysitter and that Steve was a grown man that could own up for his actions.

 

Then he had punched another wall when he saw the torn-apart arc reactor.

 

It took time for Tony to believe him, but Rhodey was well-acquainted with his stubbornness, having dealt with it since MIT. They sat down for coffee -because Tony Stark would just _not do fucking tea-_ and they talked. Tony fixed his legs, and Rhodey fixed _him_.

 

Now the man looked like he could really use another wall to punch.

 

“Honeybear, I’m gonna get you a gym full of walls, just so you can punch every one of them. The walls are getting scared of you, they’ve been asking for insurance and the kid-walls are terrified, never knowing if the papa-wall and mama-wall are gonna come home…” he rambled, trying to lighten the mood. The mood was still pretty fucking dark, he was seconds away from papa, mama and baby ketchup joke.

 

“Tony,” Rhodey warned, no heat in his voice. Tony could not handle fucking heat right now. He looked at Rhodey’s legs, and went through the schematics in his head. The left one was falling behind a bit, so he had to make it lighter, but what kind of metal would be accustomed to…

 

“Tony, you’re thinking again.” Pepper said, going through the New Accords for the last time before The Rogues came. It was useless, thinking she more or less created the paper, working with the (excuse of an) UN in the progress. Ross was throughly annoyed by that.

 

Tony read the final draft weeks ago, not wanting to look at anything else related to The Avengers business. Nick Fury was leaving messages and calls left and right, which Tony sent to voice-mail without a second thought. He’d dodged a fucking SHIELD team trying to downright _kidnap_ him, and never went for groceries again.

 

He was pretty sure Fury had another scar on his head now, caused by a 8-inch Louboutin.

 

“That’s what I do, Pep, I think.” Tony shot, and Pepper shot back her _do not bullshit me_ look. Tony rolled her eyes, cursing at how well she knew him. “I’m fine,” he tried.

 

“Yeah, and I’m white.” Rhodey said, unimpressed. Tony tried imagining Rhodey as a 22 year old college girl, but even that did not lighten his mood. The bar was that fucking low.

 

The Rouges should have been here hours ago, but Ross, being so up in the government’s ass, was willing to wait even more. Tony wanted to curse at the narrow-minded board, and their fear of the unknown. _I’m not going to fucking butcher people with my scary iron armor, pinky promise, but your captain and his groupies are willing to let people die in frozen temperatures. But hey, I fucked more than 10 people in my rebel-phase, so listen to your fucking captain and his bullshit. Virtue, patience, killing innocent people in the progress, honesty…_

 

 _“_ We’re falling behind, we did not agree to the wait.” Pepper told Ross as they entered the meeting room, her professional Pepper Potts ‘ I will dance on your grave’ smile imprinted on her face. Tony was quite familiar with the smile. “Five more minutes…”

 

“You will wait as long as it requires, Miss Potts, and even if it takes them five hours, when they come, we will be waiting on this room…”

 

“Don’t fucking interrupt her again.” Tony said, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. He wasn’t very successful. “Unless you want her to tear you a new one, then in that case, you can gladly continue.”

 

Ross looked like he had just seen his grandmother naked, while Pepper’s smile did not waver. Rhodey let out an amused chuckle.

 

“That is very unprofessional-“

 

“Yeah, so is you sleeping with the Senator’s wife, but you don’t see me bitching about it.”

 

Ross did not talk after that.

 

 

JARVIS announced the landing of the stolen quinjetjust when Tony was about to say ‘fuck it’ and call it a day. Ross smiled smugly, and Tony would give everything to just to take a swing at him, to wipe that fucking smirk out of his face. He sometimes wished he hadn’t revealed the world he was Iron Man, just to beat some people up and look innocent the next day. But nooo, his fucking mouth had to talk without his brain catching up.

 

‘Show ‘em the way, J.” Tony said, knowing it was unnecessary as telling a human how to breathe. Jarvis was a part of him now; he though with his brain and acted withhis instincts, only with more sleep, since Tony had the worse sleep schedule to ever exist, while Jarvis, did not need sleep. Tony was so fucking jealous of him.

 

“As you wish, sir,” Jarvis answered, and went quiet. Tony could hear the footsteps approaching.

 

 _Relax,_ Tony thought, trying to slow his breathing, and hating himself for it. He was supposed to be stronger, he was _Iron Man_ for god’s sake, but he acted like the little boy Howard scolded him for. God, breathing was becoming harder and harder. He looked around him, remembering Rhodey’s advice.

 

He tried to focus on Pepper, her perfect strawberry-blonde hair, and her jade dress, probably costing more than someone’s rent. Pepper was perfect, contrary to Tony’s mess. She was always well-put together and never even flinched when somebody tried to take her down. She would just ruin their lives and move on to her other victim, the other asshole who had thought that Pepper fucked Tony to get to this position. Many people made the same mistake and they all found themselves under Pepper’s perfect heels.

 

She and Natasha would get along well.

 

But unlike Natasha, Pepper would never screw Tony over.

 

The glass door opened, and Tony found himself face to face with The Rogues.

 

His brain just said _fuck it, what’s the worse could happen, he’s going to leave you in an even colder cave?_ Tony sometimes questioned his sanity, especially when he hadn’t been getting sleep for nearly 40 hours and counting.

 

Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers got through the door, looking like they haven’t showered in days. Wanda’s eyes were glowing red, Bucky Barnes looked as uncomfortable as Tony, and Steve Rogers had grown a beard.

 

 _What’s new,_ Tony thought.

 

Ross looked like Christmas had come early. He pointed to the chairs and tried to help his smug smirk as the Rogues slowly sat down. Steve sat right in front of Tony, and god, Tony didn’t even want to punch him. He just wanted to go straight for the lungs, or legs. Or even the private parts, like a fifth grader.

 

Bucky found the farthest point of the room, his shoulder blades against the corners of the glass walls. Tony tensed up, not knowing why. His body’s ‘fight or flight’ response was blaring like an alarm, and his hands itched for his gauntlets. Maximoff’s ‘edgy hot topic witch’ look, peppered with red smears of magic, did not help.

 

“The Rogues,” Ross said, and Tony wanted to throw up. He was sitting as the only person without any powers or at least suits in this room and still could act higher than any one of them, portraying himself as the god. Tony knew that if it hadn’t been for Strange’s help, Maximoff would’ve blown this compound up ages ago. The Bleecker Street ‘magician’ had done a ‘spell’ to the compound -god, Tony really needed to sleep-, not entirely blocking but at least minimizing the ‘dark witchcraft’. Tony was overusing the quote marks at this point.

 

“So, where’s your friend Romanoff?” Ross said, knowing his words would sting. If Natasha wasn’t there, she was probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or left without her team, and Tony didn’t know which one was worse. Unlike Rogers, he knew Natasha. She only did what was best for her. Her heart did not give place for anybody else; Tony learned that the hard way.

 

Rogers stayed silent but looked at Ross defiantly, not backing up from a fight. _That’s the stubborn motherfucker I know,_ Tony thought bitterly. “We don’t have any intel on her,” he said finally, not breaking the eye contact. Ross nodded, victorious.

 

“Very well, we’ll deal with The Widow later…I’ll have to ask you to state your names for the record, the whole thing is being recorded and sent to the UN as we speak.” _There is no going back from this,_ he meant. Tony stayed silent.

 

Steve looked at Tony, his eyes the piercing blue Tony remembered. He also remembered the blankness of them while Captain dig a shield into his heart. “Captain Steven Grant Rogers,” he said. _Oh boy._

 

 _“_ You’re stripped away from all your titles given from the United States Army, the Captain’s not your title now.”Ross said, a satisfied smirk on his face. Tony new the motherfucker was enjoying this, and he didn’t blame him, knowing the government had been on his ass for ages.

 

“Not that he did something to earn it to begin with.” Rhodey shrugged, his voice bitter and his arms crossed. Rogers sadly gazed at him, while Wilson looked like he might throw up.

 

Tony wanted to curse at Cap for bringing civilians into this. Their team had a god, a super soldier, two highly trained assassins, one enormous green rage monster and one man in a tin can. A man in a bird suit and a young adult who looked like they were headed for the ComicCon in town -damn you Peter- was not exactly the dream team.

 

Steve should’ve kept people out from this, for the same reason Tony kept Peter out of the Avengers Business; this was dangerous. They fought. They sometimes won, they could just as easily lose. Tony didn’t want to hold a premature adult’s _\- Peter’s-_  dead body in his hands. He wanted to let him deal with the muggings and stuff, ask his date to prom, get his first hand job through his pants.

 

Apparently, Ross did not think of it that way, and when he had more than 117 countries with him, the motherfucker was stronger than Hulk on steroids. _Spiderman_ was signed in as an Avenger, and the kid was _way too happy_ for someone who just had their life destroyed. _Say bye-bye to the normal life, kiddo,_ Tony wanted to say, but couldn’t. _The kid is gonna be wrecked enough for three lifetimes, let him be happy for a little, at least while he still can._

 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Steve said finally, the bitterness in his voice _almost_ hurting Tony. If this was a year ago, Tony would’ve bought the best sketching books in the _galaxy_ the first thing tomorrow, saying ‘ _I just ran into them.’_ Today, he returned the look, just as bitter. He had built himself a wall from ice, and strengthened it with terror and pain.

 

Pepper held his hand beneath the table, and Tony tried feeling safe. The room felt colder for a moment.

 

Wilson looked around expectantly, trying to see if anybody else was going to talk. _That used to happen to me a lot in debriefs,_ Tony thought, almost feeling sorry for the man. Rogers had this habit of taking talking turns sometimes, without even realizing it, and it made sense, thinking The Army did not wait for someone to raise a hand. He was super-careful about not interrupting Natasha, though, because 1) Nat was scary and 2) he was always super-careful about not interrupting a woman. Might be one of the handful things Tony had appreciated about him.

 

Oh, who was he kidding, Tony used to _worship_ him.

 

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Sam said, still looking at Rhodey, his eyes screaming _I’m sorry._ Rhodey’s eyes softened. His honeybear could never be cold.

 

“Why are we doing this?” The witch said, her voice reeking of anger. Tony could see the red sparks coming out fo hands lie a cheap magic trick. Uh oh, we upset the Maleficent. “We don’t have to do this, Steve!” _Steve? “_ I can leave your disgusting compounds in ruins, Stark!” _Oh honey, please do, and save me from the effort. “_ We’re leaving!”

 

Honestly, Tony never was too observant with kids, but Maximoff looked exactly like a 5-year-old throwing a temper tantrum because their mother made broccoli for dinner. He just leaned back on his chair, and tried not to laugh at Maximoff’s _deadly stare._ God, she looked like she was shitting her pants.

 

“Wanda, that’s enough,” Steve told her, but Wanda did not back off. “Wanda.”

 

_God, he can’t even command her! Where’s the Steve I know?_

 

Then the bitter thought found his way into his head.

 

_He’s long gone._

 

 _“_ I would sit down if I were you,” Pepper said, with her press voice intact.

 

“What are you going to do, you’re gonna beg to your strong boyfriend to come and beat me? I beat him! He’s nothing but a scared, weak man.”

 

_You’re right in that matter, Maximoff, but I’m not Pepper’s boyfriend._

_“_ No,” Pepper said calmly, and the room grew hotter. Her beautiful green eyes burned like bright amber, and her strawberry-blonde hair turned a lighter shade. “I don’t need Tony to do that for me.”

 

_Tony still hated Extremis, but it saved Pep’s life, and also made her this hot mess -not a metaphor- that looked a lot like the angry volcano lady in Moana, so, win-win._

 

Wanda sat down and murmured a quiet ‘bitch’ in Russian. Tony, who knew the language all too well, returned a ‘shut up’. The witch seemed distraught.

 

“Ladies, gentleman, can we please get on with this? You have 117 countries waiting on you.” _And you have a mistress waiting on you._ God, Tony hated Ross so much. He couldn’t wait for plan ‘throw the bastard down’, which was going to be initiated probably next week. Ross was dangerously arrogant and hungry for power to lead this, and Pepper was going to make sure everything he had hidden from the media was going to resurface sometime soon.

 

The room turned its normal temperature as Pepper shoulders softened, and her frown disappeared from her face. Tony knew the powers were complicated and hard to control, and he didn’t want to give Pepper a reason to use it anytime soon. He could fight his own battles, and he wouldn’t Pepper to overheat like a goddamn computer.

 

“Clinton Barton,” Clint carried on as the heat went away, and Tony realized the unusual tick in his voice. The words were slurred, even though not by much, and his voice was definitely louder. He didn’t seem to mind it, though, and after saying his name, he looked at Ross, focused on the lips.

 

 _Huh,_ Tony though. In their line of work, explosions were not a rare thing to come by, but loss of hearing… He wondered how serious it was, or if Steve even knew it. From the emotionlessness on his face, he suspected that he didn’t.

 

As the room grew silent around them, Steve touched Wanda’s shoulder oh-so-soft, and urged her to talk. The witch was not content, that was clear as day, but weird enough, she listened to Steve and muttered a quiet ‘Wanda Maximoff’, almost like a curse. Tony held himself from laughing because god, this was what he was dealing with. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and apparently, babysitter.

 

When did my life ever come to this, he thought bitterly, feeling the scars on his chest, shaped like a bird’s nest with a grand stick slicing through. He couldn’t afford to look at mirrors anymore, because every time he did, everything came back to him; from Obadiah, to Mandarin, the giant black hole on Manhattan and finally, the icy crackle of a shield. Ultron was something entirely else, but the marks he left was inside, not outside. The marks he left was the team they were now; broken apart, disbanded.

 

 _We all start wide eyed, pure science,_ Maya had said. She died because of Tony.

 

Lots of people had died because of him, and Tony wanted to throw up because of the giant burden. He wasn’t a man to die for, he wasn’t a man to even root for. He was just a _man._

 

 _“_ James Buchanan Barnes,” the soldier said, his eyes not leaving the marbled floors. It was almost like he was scared of something in this room, or someone. Tony knew the feeling all too well.

 

Tony’s eyes got stuck on the stump on his left side, the dirty arm of the sweatshirt hanging uselessly. Tony was pretty sure the skin would be inflamed by now, and the remaining part of the arm without any neuroleptic sensors would feel like a useless chunk of a metal, weighing down the man.

 

Steve deserved the hell that was going to rain down on him and a lot more, but Barnes’ only fault was falling off that train 70 years ago. That many years of torture and mind control must’ve been enough of a punishment.

Tony reminded himself to look closely at the arm and started thinking about the schematics for a new prosthetic, a few curses squeezed in between. Curiosity was what killed the fucking cat, and Tony didn’t have nine lives either.

 

He was pushing his luck, though, because the only man to end Tony Stark was not some tall dude with a questionable fashion choice, but Tony Stark himself.

 

_Well, that was fucking depressing, asshole._

 

As their side of the table started stating their names for ‘the record’ which was nothing more than a dick measuring contest for Ross who wanted to show the whole world that _he_ brought the Avengers back. In reality, he was doing nothing but to lie on the hot sand, and sipping his exotic drink. _Pepper and Rhodey_ were the ones who went without sleep for days to answer calls and draft up papers for multiple politicians around the globe.

 

Tony, being the weak motherfucker he was, just hid in his workshop, playing with metal and being an overall asshole. Rhodey downright _commanded_ him to sleep and do whatever he wanted to do, to stay out of this mess, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t cleaning Tony’s mess up. This was all his fault, and there he was again, not being able to own up to his mistakes.

 

The thoughts nagged at his brain, making him go dizzy. God, he hated being so _fucking weak_ all the goddamn time. He hated sitting in here, listening to people who tried to kill the people he loved only months ago.

 

He hoped he could pass out tonight, because three hours or not, he needed some rest from the unrelenting thoughts, even if it meant nightmares.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this quarantine shit really got to me huh
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> sorry for the grammatical mistakes, idk what i'm even doin anymore ✌🏻😔


	2. the roommate situation -b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, hating his name, tries to get on with his new, rogue life; but desperately fails when his own past catches up to him. the blood becomes too much to breathe, and Bucky drowns -his roommate seems to be getting a kick out of the situation, though-.

“How could you say that, Bucky?” Steve protested, the disapproving frown on his face deepening. “We can’t go to Stark with our tail between our legs after everything we’ve done, that means he’s right and we’re wrong!” Bucky never wanted to kick Steve more than now, and believe him, Bucky wanted to kick Steve _a lot._

 

 _“_ I can’t believe you’re even thinking about the slightest possibility of us being right, Steve! We ran! We hurt people and we ran away from the consequences. You think Rhodes is all up-and-well right now? Or do you think the people that died in Lagos, in Sokovia, in Manhattan, they’re all smiling big?” He knew this was a low blow, but he _had to_ get Steve back to the compound. After all the death and destruction he had caused, that was the least he could do.

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about right now.”

 

“I know it very well, Steve, and that’s why I’m here, talking to you.” The witch must’ve been sneering behind him, because Bucky felt like a dog with its hackles raised. He tried to shake off the weak feeling and focused on his mission.

 

“Why are you so desperate to be Stark’s lap dog anyway?” Clint asked. Bucky was thinking of the most efficient way to rip out his throat already, and he might’ve found an answer. “You think he’s gonna put out the red carpet for us before we walk in? He’s probably gonna stick us in this big prison again.”

 

“I don’t want to be anyone’s lap dog, I just want to right the wrongs that I can.” Bucky growled. This was the most he had talked since…forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke his mind with this much determination. Probably 80 years ago.

 

The floors of the old, abandoned apartment creaked, though Bucky was not sure anyone but Steve and him could hear it. The Winter Soldier senses dialed everything up to 11, including anger. He was seconds away from ripping the Witch’s throat out.

 

“Bucky, you shouldn’t watch the news,” she said, her voice like a spell. Bucky tried to shake it off. “They paint him like a hero, like someone who’s trying to do right. He’s nothing more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” _No,_ Bucky thought, knowing it meant nothing. _You’re the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Only I can see the wolf, Steve sees the sheep._

 

 _“_ I’m not saying this because I watched the news, I’m saying this because I read the goddamn Accords.” Bucky tried, trying to sound reasonable, to sound calm. He could see that Sam was thinking the same as him; the only difference was he still had a life to lose. Bucky didn’t care anymore.

 

“Oh, this again,” Steve sighed. He sat down on a chair, his 'Captain Stare' intact. “Bucky, I said it before, everything that they say there is a total lie. Politicians have agendas, and agendas change.”

 

“And you don’t, Steve? Everyone has a fucking agenda, grow up.” Bucky remembered the small, sickly boy in Brooklyn and how they talked. He didn’t know how it felt like, but his guess was something like this.

 

To be honest, Bucky didn’t feel much other than anger and sorrow, these days.

 

The older days was still in his memory; his mother’s birthday, his old shoe size, the old jobs he had worked. The only thing missing were the emotions that came within; his mother’s laugh, how the sun shone on him and how it felt, how the winter in Brooklyn was like. The feelings were missing, and every time Bucky remembered something from his past, he felt like he was watching a movie. The things had happened, but the feelings were…lost, taken away by an invisible force.

 

“Bucky, I don’t think you’re in your right mind right now-“

 

“Right mind? Well, 70 years of torture and brain-washing kinda does that, Steve. I’m never in my right mind, and I need to be leashed. I sleep in the fucking ground of your room because we never know if I’m gonna wake up one night and kill someone-“

 

“In Wakanda-“

 

“In Wakanda, they _tried,_ until UN came to their door and they kicked us out. And they had every right to kick us out, Steve. You can’t erase 70 years of coding in three weeks.” Bucky knew that, because every night, in his nightmares, HYDRA made him bent and break. All it took was ten words, and he was the cold-blooded assassin all over again, killing people without batting an eyelash 

 

“Bucky…” he tried, and Bucky hated his name. How Steve said it with emotion and longing, longing for the old Bucky Barnes; the lady killer, a man full of life and youth. A _kid_ with no blood on his hands.

 

“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. But I’m going, Steve, and if I turn out by myself, I doubt that they’re gonna treat me like a guest.”

 

He got out of the room, and realized he was holding his breath the whole time.

 

 

 

The quinjet staggered, landing on the grass. He saw Sam, holding on to one of the rails, clearly anxious. Every one of them were, Maximoff the most. She was almost radiating magic, the thin layer of red visible from outside.

Bucky _hated_ magic.

 

He had no idea how Steve coerced her to come back to the Compound, or as Maximoff said, straight to _the killer's_  claws. He didn’t care much. As long as they were doing the right thing, and as long as he had a chance to right some of his wrongs; or at least, the rightable ones.

 

He remembered every drop of blood he had spilled, every scream he pulled out of his victims. They were the wrongs he could not make right anymore. But this, he could manage. He made Steve break the team apart because of him, costing Rhodey’s legs and the the whole world’s trust.

 

_Bringing trouble everywhere you go, Barnes? Death, destruction, blood. They all follow you, and you know the only solution._

 

 _I know,_ he wanted to say. _I tried._ But apparently, bullets and knives don’t work on a former Winter Soldier. How fan-fucking-tastic. The guy upstairs really had some issues with him, huh?

 

They walked through the marble corridors, with soldiers standing behind them with guns. He wanted to _laugh._ Really, some _guns? This is the best protection Stark could do?_

Then, he wanted to laugh at himself. This was obviously a distraction, because as the news channels said, Stark was the brightest there was, and even a half-mind like Bucky wouldn’t trust a witch with guns. There should’ve been another form of protection, an invisible one.

 

To his surprise, he was right; Maximoff frowned and subtly moved her fingers, unsatisfied, then curious. The red swam between her fingers but weakly burned out.

 

Bucky held himself from smiling.

 

 

 

 

Bucky made his way for the small corner of the room, his Winter Soldier instincts getting the best of him. The Wakandans might’ve stopped him from strutting around with a machine gun in his hand and a muzzle on his mouth, but he still felt him talking, like an alarm blaring weakly.

 

‘сиди здесь,’ the voice inside him said, and Bucky obliged. He felt his shoulder blades leaning against the cold wall, and the blares of the alarm got weaker and weaker.

 

Five minutes passed by, and Steve was told that he wasn’t a Captain anymore. _That must’ve hurt,_ he thought, as Barnes. Winter Soldier just scoffed, just like someone else in the room.

 

 _Stark,_ Barnes said.

 

 _Тони,_ the Winter Soldier corrected.

 

Bucky watched Tony, cursing at himself for doing so. He killed his parents, for god’s sake, he wasn’t the person to check out the ass on him.

 

 _веселая,_ The Winter Soldier said, amused.

 

Bucky forced himself to remember his eyes as he watched the video. Sorrow, guilt, even longing; every emotion one could feel if they had just learnt that their parents were killed by someone 3 feet-in front of them. But as soon as they were focused on Steve, those emotions changed to _rage._ Bucky wished that it could’ve been different, that it could’ve been only him in that cave, only him to pay for the things he had done. But Steve had made everything so complicated.

 

W _ell, no use crying over spilled milk._

 

Now, the eyes were tired and were decorated with big bags under them, focused on some invisible shadow.

 

жалкий, the Winter Soldier said. Bucky knew what he meant. _He could’ve killed us the second we set foot in his compound, and nobody would’ve batted an eyelash to the tragic death of a brainwashed assassin. Instead we are here, sitting in chairs._

 

 _мучить?_ The Soldier guessed. It wasn’t unlikely, thinking the guy was ‘the smartest there was’, and had grand resources and even greater connections to accompany his intelligence. _Maybe, but let’s not get too excited,_ Bucky thought bitterly.

 

He hated that The Winter Soldier was still in his head, talking, accompanying him on his thoughts. The first days, he tried everything to make the voice stop, but he failed. The voice was still there, still a part of HYDRA that just wouldn’t let him go.

 

Now that he had no more options, he just let the voice talk as he pleased, sharing his thoughts every minute. It was like living with a roommate; but the roommate was inside his brain in every step he took, didn’t pay any rent, and was a deadly assassin with very interesting thoughts.

 

He at least distracted him from the burn on his arm.

 

He couldn’t even afford to look at the ugly stump sometimes, covered in inflamed skin. God, it hurt too much for someone with as high pain tolerance as him, but it _hurt._ It felt like it was burning from inside out, every swish of air feeding the fire. Moving it was entirely different challenge. Showers…

 

Bucky _almost_ missed the times where his arm was complete.

 

_almost._

 

It was his turn in this weird, humiliating show, and he tiredly obliged. He couldn’t see the use of resisting, they were criminals they should’ve been treated as such. God knew Bucky wasn’t too unfamiliar with torture chambers and all the other stuff.

 

But they were given _rooms,_ with _hot water_ and actual, rich people beds. Bucky couldn’t even remember the time he had slept in a real bed; the floor of Steve’s room was the only sleeping area he had granted himself. The fear of hurting someone was far too strong, and he wanted to think he was being a good person, but the truth was, he was just a coward.

 

A coward, scared of owning up to their actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> сиди здесь; sit here  
> Тони; tony  
> веселая; funny  
> жалкий; pathetic  
> мучить?; torture?
> 
> tiny disclaimer; this isn't going to be one of the fics that 'The Winter Soldier falls in love with Tony and the three of them lives happily ever after'. I'm not even sure why he's even there -comic relief?- but hopefully, as our boi 'bucky' gets better, we'll be seeing less of him.
> 
> another tiny disclaimer; I KNOW the Russian is shit, sorry in advance. Russian isn't really my strong suit. Feel free to make corrections, though!


End file.
